Dreams of Catastrophe
by whoisklr
Summary: Takes place after Season 2. Will focus on Holder and his complex relationship with Linden.
1. Chapter 1

**Dreams of Catastrophe**

Rating: T for a few swear words and adult situations (but nothing graphic)

A/N: This story takes place after Season 2, so beware of Spoilers. It will focus on Linden and Holder's relationship, but not necessarily as a romantic item. There will be more than a couple chapters, I don't know how many exactly yet, but I know where the story is going at least! :)

Feel free to leave comments, I'll try to update as often as I can.

DAY ONE

Tonight, it's the one with the bomb again. At first, everyone is happy and carefree. People are smiling as though they are celebrating something. Perhaps they are, who knows? Perhaps they're even celebrating him.

They're on a beach somewhere and the sun is shining. But it's not too hot, and for that his dream-self is grateful. He feels the presence of his sister and her kids – his mum, too. Back when she was healthy. But he also sees the blurred figures of other people he can't recognize. People he can trust. People he feels safe with. Too bad he can't recognize them, he would certainly have loved to know who they were and where he could find them. _Where have you been all my life?_

And then, people start looking at the sky, like they always do when he reaches that part of the dream. Then there is a big noise, and colours. It could very well be fireworks, but it's not. It's the bomb. Exploding near the horizon, the mushroom cloud forming already, for all of their eyes to see. Everything goes quite then: the wind, the waves, the laughter, the joy. Someone is holding his hand. He turns, and sees Linden. Her eyes are sad, but she's smiling serenely to him.

He wakes up.

It's pitch black outside and there's nothing on TV. At least, it stopped raining, he thinks. Perhaps if he falls back to sleep the nightmares won't return. Perhaps.

He cannot shake off how Linden was looking at him in the dream. The rest of the dream he was used to. But usually his sister or even his mother was holding his hand at the end. And usually they would drop it and disappear into thin air, frightening him, before he'd wake up. But Linden didn't drop his hand, she even smiled at him. "Everything will be okay", she seemed to say.

He hasn't seen her for ten days. Carlson told him she took a leave a absence, which pissed his boss up big time, since he had managed to reinstate her before her hearing. He knows the hearing is in 3 days, and he hopes he will see her then. And then sometimes, usually in the morning after his first cigarette and his first overly-sweetened coffee, when his thoughts are clearest, he wishes he won't see her at the hearing, or before, or after. Wishes she is happy somewhere, with Jack, and has managed to leave her own nightmares behind. Wishes he'll never see her in this rainy place again. And then, at the end of the day, when he sits at his desk alone, drinking the last coffee he knows he can endure while filling up neverending paperwork, he wishes she would hurry up and move her ass back home already.

The dream keeps resurfacing all throughout the day. But instead of distressing him, like they often do, the memory of Linden's presence soothes him. When he is standing in someone's living room, having to tell this poor woman that her long lost son has been found dead behind a dumbster, he thinks he can feel her hand gripping his. When he is shouted at by an angry lawyer who tells him he will have him demoted for having tricked his client into confessing, he feels her breath on his neck. And when finally he comes home and falls asleep on his couch, with his shoes still on, he wakes up to see her eyes staring at him. Except, this time, she is talking.

"I used the spare key from the flower pot. I didn't think you'd be home already, sorry."

Having just woken up, he fails to get a good grip on reality, and doesn't know how to make sure she's there. He can't even find the right words to say. So he takes the time to think by seating properly on the couch, and rubbing the tensed muscles of his neck. His ribs are also protesting, but he is not about to show any sign of pain, especially if she is here for real.

He pauses. She hasn't moved yet, but her eyes have been following his every move. Now she is staring at him, but her eyes are not sad like in the dream, they're just tired, and slightly red. Her hair is mussed, as though she has been sleeping herself recently. There is a small bag by her feet, and she is still wearing her coat. She had sat down on the couch next to him, and apparently the movement had woken him, because he can't remember her speaking or reaching for him.

He listens to the world outside, and finally comes up with what to say.

"It's raining again."

"It started just when you woke up."

Perhaps the rain woke him, then.

"How long have you been here?"

"I've just arrived. I thought I would come by, see how you were."

He doesn't ask her where she's been. Maybe she's coming from the airport, but he doesn't spy any tell-tale tag on her bag, which she might have alrerady removed anyway. Perhaps she came from Sonoma. Perhaps not. Perhaps she was in Chicago, with Jack and his dad. And then, perhaps not. He's certainly not about to ask. He settles for a different topic, not necessarily safer, but at least one he is truly curious about.

"How's little man?"

She smiles. That one smile reserved for her son, the only true smile he has ever seen grace her face.

"He's good, he'll be home soon." He doesn't ask her to elaborate, knowing it's not his place. But she keeps on staring at him, apparently considering something.

"He's been asking about you, how you were." she adds.

"Well, tell him I'm good, next time you speak to him. Tell him I owe him breakfast."

She smiles again, this time less openly, and he is reminded of his dream once again.

"How are you? Ribs still giving you a hard time?"

Damn, he thinks. You can't hide anything from her.

"I'm good, Linden. Life's been treating me okay. No crazy Indian after my scalp or anything like that at least."

"That's good to hear."

He wonders if he should ask her about where she's been and what she's been doing all this time. But he feels as if he has just met her, and doesn't know where to stand. They used to have this strange working-relationship: not always truly partners, but at least always connected by one goal – solving the Rosie Larsen case. Now he feels as if he has to start all over again, as if they are no longer the same people. He hopes that their bound, whatever it may be, wasn't an artificial one, created in a time of need. He hopes she'll still see him as someone she can trust. Once again not knowing how to broach he subject, he asks:

"Wanna eat something? It must be late... I can make you eggs or something, if my exotic tastes don't suit you." He stands and walks towards the fridge, checking that he has the necessary ingredients to make an omelet, which is not saying much, but he hasn't gone shopping for a few days.

"I'm fine, I already had something."

He closes the door of his fridge and rubs his twitching hands on his jeans: he's not hungry either, but he's dying for a cigarette.

"But I wouldn't mind a smoke."

It's his turn to smile.

"I'm trying to quit."

She raises her eyebrows. "You? Quitting?"

"Yeah, well, you know. At least stop smoking so much. No point going through rehab if you're just gonna replace one drug for another."

"I thought that was the whole point of rehab," she deadpans.

"That's the whole point of _failing_ rehab, more like. But it's okay, I guess I can have one, I've only had like 5 or 6 today."

"That's what you call quitting?"

"Small steps and all that. If you're not happy, why don't _you_ try and quit."

"It's your own fault I started again." There's no reproach or anger in her voice, so he comes closer and hands her a smoke from his half-full pack.

"Nah, Linden. I just proved you weren't ready to quit yet, is all."

They smoke in silence. Only then does he realize that the room has gotten rather dark, and that he should switch on some lights. He picks up his cellphone on the coffee table, to check that he hasn't missed any call, and sees that it is close to ten already. He's slept for a few hours, but his tired body and aching joints are quite clearly signaling him that going back to sleep right now wouldn't go amiss, preferably in his own bed this time, if he can.

"You can have the bed like last time if you want, I'll change the sheets."

She doesn't seem to react to the fact that he has skipped at least three or four questions, or maybe even a whole conversation, before asking her that. But like most things when it comes to her, Linden goes straight to the point as well.

"It's fine, I'll take the couch, I'm not really tired. I think I'll watch some TV. But you can go on to bed, you need it."

The fact that she can so easily read him would earn her a few quips if he wasn't so sleepy. And besides, he doesn't really mind. On the contrary, he's rather glad to see that their partnership is still intact, even if she isn't sure to have the job to prove it anymore.

He knows they'll talk more about her hearing tomorrow. And then, perhaps not. Perhaps they'll just pretend it's not important. Perhaps they'll just pretend that no hearing can have the power to say they can't be partners anymore. In his mind, the hearing isn't about whether her job as a cop in this city is on the line, it's about whether she'll have to disappear from his life, and he'll have to pretend this past month and a half has not happened. That they haven't lost part of themselves to the Rosie Larsen case. That they haven't suffered and mourned and toiled side by side.

He looks down at her feet again and sees the bag. It gives him hope.

"Wake me if you need anything, or have to leave or whatever." He knows she won't, but he feels better saying it anyway. She nods, and starts scanning the channels, looking for something mindlessly entertaining to watch on TV.

He's about to close the door of his bedroom after having given her a spare pillow and a blanket, but he can't help turing back.

"Hey, Linden? I'm glad you're back."


	2. Chapter 2

**DAY TWO**

He's on the beach again. But this time, the sun isn't shining, and he can't hear laughter. A heavy fog seems to be hanging in the air, but he knows the sea is near because he can hear the rhythmic sound of waves crashing then taking shape again on the shore. His feet are cold. Looking down, he can see his toes being swallowed by the cold, dark sand.

Suddenly, the air is clearing, and he can distinguish two figures ahead of him. He forces his frozen limbs to move and reaches them.

They are making a sandcastle, a woman and her child. At first, he can't recognise them: the woman has windswept long blond hair and the small boy looks to be around six or seven. As soon as his brain registers this information, they turn into his sister Lise and her son Davy, as though they had always been these people, as though they weren't just a representation automatically rendered by his mind.

She is helping her son building the sandcastle, but as he gets closer, instead of hearing their voices, the sound of the waves becomes that much louder. The noise is deafening and makes his ears hurt. He is still cold, and his family doesn't seem to react to his presence. Perhaps they can't see him. Perhaps they're just ignoring him.

Davy is struggling, and he can see he is getting annoyed, even though his mother is helping him. But the castle keeps on crumbling, and the child can't admit defeat. His movements are rushed, and he is on the verge of crying when the castle crumbles once more. Suddenly, Lise looks directly at him. There is such anger in her stare that he takes a step back. She seems to be furious at him, as if the fact that her son can't manage to build a sandcastle is all his fault. For a moment, he feels as though she may physically hurt him. But he knows he could withstand her blows. What he cannot withstand is the pure hatred in her eyes. He feels small and insignificant, as if he doesn't belong anywhere. He feels vulnerable and terribly sad, as if all happiness has been drained from him, as if the sun will never shine again. His family is rejecting him, and he can't blame anyone but himself.

'Holder.'

The sound of the crashing waves is receding, but the fire in his sister's eyes is still all he can see.

'Holder!'

Someone is calling him, but Lise's lips aren't moving. He can no longer see the sand or the distant fog, and his sister's face is right in front of him suddenly. He is trying to walk away, but an invisible wall is preventing him from moving. He's drowning in the fierce anger directed at him, and he can't look anywhere else.

'Holder, wake up!'

There's a hand gripping his wrist, and this time he manages to turn back.

He wakes up.

He sits abruptly on his bed. His breath is ragged and his feet are cold: he kicked off his comforter sometime while he was asleep. The bedroom is dark but there is light coming from outside the door. A figure is standing over him. He recognises Linden at once, but can't understand what she's doing there. And then he remembers: she came back, it wasn't a dream. Each time he blinks, trying to wake more fully, he can see the fiery eyes of his sister blinding him, as if he had stared at twin lights for too long. He is still out of breath, and he rakes is hands in his sweaty hair. The image of his dream doesn't go away but he tries to somehow erase it by pressing his hands against his eyes. He does it until he feels he's about to faint. His heart is hammering madly, and finally he raises his eyes to Linden's face.

"Did I wake you?" he asks, moving his cold feet under the comforter.

"No, I was already awake."

"What time is it?" he can't believe it's morning yet, or pale light would be already streaming through his thin, wooden blinds.

"About 5.30. I woke up half an hour ago, I slept too much yesterday. You seemed distressed, you okay?"

"Yeah, bad dream, that's all. I'll go make breakfast or something." he stands up, and tries to find socks under his bed to put on, since his feet are still stone-cold.

"You can go back to sleep if you want, it's still early."

"Nah, I'm fine, this is all the sleep I need." he doesn't want to tell her that he is afraid his sister's eyes will be welcoming him back if he dares going back to sleep.

He pads into the kitchen in mismatched socks, too sleepy to care about dressing yet. Linden isn't the sort of person to mind if he were to lounge in his own apartment at five in the morning in sweatpants and a ragged T-shirt anyhow.

"You hungry yet?" he putts the kettle on for coffee and takes the eggs out of the fridge. His movements are automatic, but he is on edge and his hands have started shaking slightly. His hands are always shaking in the morning. He doesn't know if it's because of his past addiction to meth, or the burning need for a cigarette. Lately, has has been starting to wonder if it's not because of his dreams. He knows food usually helps, and even though he is not awake enough to feel any hunger yet, he also knows that he will regret it later if all he ingests before leaving for the station is coffee and cigarette smoke.

Linden has followed him to the kitchen, and as he turns to look at her he finally notices the look on her face. It had been too dark until now to do so. She looked puzzled, and maybe even a bit concerned.

"You sure you're okay? You're pale." she comes closer to him and stands behind the bar, watching him opening cupboards and getting his coffee press, plates and various pieces of cutlery out. He knows he can't ignore her question, but he delays answering by cracking eggs in a buttered pan.

"Just the way I look first thing in the morning. Takes me a few hours 'til I reach my usual level of perfection." he hears her snigger, and wishes she would drop the subject. The last thing on his mind is for her to worry about him. He's glad she hasn't been asking about his ribs again.

"Are your injuries troubling you?"

More like 'yet', rather than 'again', then. He sighs, and puts on what he thinks is his most convincing smile.

"Don't you worry, Linden. Take a load off and sit. Coffee'll be done in a minute. And then plain omelets, since my earliest attempt at cooking didn't meet your standards."

But Linden isn't fooled. While he is pouring the hot water over the coffee in his press, he can still see doubt in her eyes. He usually manages to wait until after breakfast before having his first cigarette, but the way she is staring at him makes him wish he hadn't left his pack in his bedroom. He has a feeling he's going to have a hard time looking at people in the eye today.

"What happened with the Sea-Tac murder?" she asks, out of the blue, apparently realizing a change of subject is in order.

"The what?"

"The murder we were called to investigate, last time I saw you."

"Oh yeah, that. Piece of cake in the end, didn't need much time to crack that one, so to speak. Guy OD'd. Just looked like a murder because he had been robbed. Turns out he was already dead when the kid we arrested took his shit."

"It was no Rosie Larsen, then."

"That's for sure." He actually had been very glad the case had turned out so easy. He just wouldn't have been ready to handle something big so soon, for the very simple reason that he knew he wouldn't have been able to deal with it without Linden by his side. Actually, now that he might get her back as his partner, he didn't wish for such a case to land on their laps again either. He'd die happy if he never had to go through all that again. He knew what working for Homicide entailed, and he knew there would be others teenage murders he would have to investigate, but he certainly hoped he'd be in a better place by then.

The Rosie Larsen case had cost him, a lot. He knew it had cost Linden even more. He thought when he joined Homicide that he had nothing left to lose, after his work undercover and going through rehab. He was proved wrong. In a way, he was glad: at least the case made him realize that there still were important things in his life, things he counted on, things he couldn't live without, such as people he could trust, or his sister. Thinking of his sister brought along bad memories from his dream, but he knew he owed her everything, and he had made the promise to spend the rest of his life trying to make up for all she had done for him, all she was still doing for him by letting him be part of the lives of his niece and nephew.

He finishes making breakfast, and they eat in silence, sitting across from one another. He can hear the city waking up outside, and low light starts peeking behind the blinds. Linden doesn't ask anymore questions, and he is afraid to ask her about her presence here. He looks at her discreetly while she's eating and notices that even though she looked more rested than two weeks ago, she clearly could have made use of her leave of absence some more.

Once again, he wonders why she has come back now. For her hearing, surely. Last night, she had said that Jack would be back soon, which meant back in Seattle, right? So she had to be moving back, and presumably in want of her job. Maybe she and Jack were planning on moving somewhere else... He doubted it would be Chicago or Sonoma, but he also knew she was ready to do almost everything for her son. He still didn't know exactly why she ended up sending him to his dad, as it was clear she hated the man. He may be Jack's father, but as far as he was concerned, the kid probably was better off without him. And anyway, he reasoned, Linden wouldn't have come to _him_ if she intended to leave Seattle and her job eventually. It didn't make sense. Right?

Suddenly, cold dread sweeps over him and he almost drops his fork. _What if she came back just to say goodbye?_

It would make sense. Although she had acted as though Rosie Larsen took precedence over her son, she may have realized once the case was closed that her job just wasn't worth it in the end. He could certainly sympathise, even though it hurt him deep inside to do so. He should be happy for her, he knew. And respect whatever her decision turned out to be. He would be with her every step of the way. Right.

_Liar_.

How was he supposed to function if Linden wasn't back? He had managed to hold on the last two weeks with the knowledge that she would be back eventually. If Carlson had managed to have her reinstated, it meant her hearing would just be for show. He wasn't afraid he wouldn't be capable of doing his job without her, he knew he was good at it, probably the only thing he was good at, actually. Even she had said so. No, he was afraid he would turn back to his former mistress. Beautiful, perfect meth. The temptation had just been too strong lately. The whole Gil Sloane sponsor/traitor fiasco had prevented him from going back to meetings. And for a while, once the Rosie Larsen case had been closed, he had stupidly believed he was cured. But the feeling of elation that came with resolution didn't last, and not two days later he found himself driving through neighbourhoods he knew too well.

Seeing that Linden is watching him closely once more over her cup of coffee, he tries to shake off his fears and goes back to his meal. But the fear keeps on clinging to him all throughout the rest of breakfast and the subsequent washing up. The fear is so strong he doesn't even feel like smoking until Linden asks him for a cigarette.

"So, what's your plan today? Going to the station at some point?", she asks, sitting by his window and looking outside. He's about to try and find an answer that would in some way force her to reveal what her own plans were when his phone starts ringing. Puzzled, since his colleagues never call anything but his cell, he picks it up on the second ring.

"Holder."

"_It's Lise_." he swallows, audibly, surprised to be hearing her voice so soon after his troubling dream.

"_Did I wake you? You okay?_", she asks, picking up on his reaction.

"I'm good. What's up Lise?" His sister doesn't usually call him so early, if she calls at all, even though they had been talking more recently and he had gone to her house for dinner twice in the last two weeks.

"_I'm sorry to be calling you so early, but I don't really know what else to do. My neighbour is going into labour and there's no one else to take her to the hospital. I don't want to take the kids with me and Martha hasn't finished her shift yet, so I can't ask her to come to the house and watch them._"

"You... You want me to come over?"

"_Would that be okay? I know you probably have to go to work at some point, but Martha can come in a few hours._"

"No, it's good, I can come. I, uh, don't have much going on right now at work, so I don't mind."

"_Great. How soon can you be here?_"

He can't believe his sister is trusting him with her kids. He knows she must be pretty stuck to ask him, but chooses not to look over this fact too closely. All that matters is that he seems to be back in her good books, and it's a very good place to be indeed.

"I can be there in 20 minutes, tops."

"_Great, I'll wake the kids."_

"Hey, Lise?", he stops her, just as she is about to hang up.

"_What?"_

"Thanks."

_"...See you in a few, Stephen._"

He hangs up, with a rare smile on his face.

"Who was it?" He can't believe he had almost forgotten Linden was here. But now that he looks at her he can see her frown at him, which he can't quite make sense of. And then he realises she might not know or remember who Lise is, even though she had met her when he was in the hospital.

"My sister. I have to go and watch her kids. She has to take her neighbour to the hospital or something."

Thinking quickly, he adds. "Can you come with me?"


	3. Chapter 3

**DAY TWO** (continued)

He wasn't sure what had made him ask her to come with him. But the fact was, she did. Probably the fear of losing her, he thought. The fear of having her disappear once again. She hadn't seemed very surprised by his request and he certainly hoped he hadn't sounded too needy, and that - heaven forbid - she had felt the need to babysit _him_, who had been appointed babysitter in the first place.

He was probably over-thinking the situation, but lack of sleep and memories from his nightmare were preventing him from seeing things clearly. He took a deep breath at a red light, and tried to calm himself by listing what was expected of him in the next few minutes: arrive at his sister in once piece, say hello to her and the kids, explain why Linden had come with him. Things that should have been easy, but which were in fact turning out to be harder than he first thought.

There was no traffic so early on a Saturday morning but he had apparently lost the capability to drive sometime during the night, and he had already stalled twice. He had seen Lise and the kids recently for a much-appreciated family dinner but it had still come to a shock that she had asked him to look after Davy and Kayla. He preferred to believe that she had started to trust him again rather than having no other person to ask. In any case, the fact that he was back on her "list" made him feel good about himself, which was a rare enough occurrence that he took the time to appreciate it, and thus didn't realise that the light had turned green.

Linden must probably think he was using again. He decided not to turn his head and watch her reaction but instead concentrated on the last couple of miles of the journey. She probably had her worried face on. Or maybe even her 'what the hell are you doing?' one, which was in fact preferable, all things considered.

They arrived safely, and he realised while parking the car that he hadn't thought about the last item on the list: explain Linden's presence. He knew it was the hardest out of the three because he hadn't even explained it to himself, yet. Frankly, if everything since last night turned out to be a convoluted dream, he wouldn't be surprised, since his dreams had been pretty weird lately. Perhaps if he deliberately closed the car door on his hand, he would wake up. And then, perhaps not.

He knew his sister and Linden had already met, while he was passed out in bed at the hospital a few weeks back. He'd had the distinct impression that Lise hadn't been very impressed by her, and didn't seem to care that Linden was a positive presence in his life. He had tried to explain to her, after the resolution of the Larsen case, what it had meant for him to get to know someone who actually trusted him with her life. _Him_. He had told her, in his own words, what that weight of responsibility felt like. And she had seemed to understand, especially when he'd mentioned Jack and what a tough time she had, raising him on her own. She could definitely sympathise in that regard, although he had kept quiet on the intricacies of the whole "Chicago situation", since he knew it wasn't really his place to say.

When Lise opened the door, he could see that she was surprised to see Linden standing there but she didn't comment, and asked them both to come in. Linden seemed a bit uncomfortable, which prompted him to talk as soon as the door was closed.

"Hope you don't mind, I thought I'd need all the help I could get, and Linden was there when you called, so..."

He could see from her raised eyebrows she assumed something was going on between them, so he quickly added:

"I mean, she's staying at my place for the moment. She's got a hearing on Monday and she has no place to stay... I mean, she could go to a hotel obviously, but I thought... Well, that you wouldn't mind if she came with me."

Lise was basically smirking by now, although he thought it was subtle enough that Linden wouldn't notice. He hoped so, anyway. His sister was the only person in the world who made him feel like a ten year old trying to explain why he'd gotten a bad grade all over again.

"That's not a problem. Why don't you come to the kitchen and have a cup of coffee?"

She was clearly in a rush, but didn't want to appear as a bad hostess. She was talking a mile a minute about groceries, and fridges, and food, and time spent on the TV, and naps and tantrums all the while serving coffee and putting on a jacket and telling the kids goodbye. He heard an echoing "Bye!" coming from somewhere in the living room, then a muttered "I'll call you around noon" and finally a door closing quietly. He then realised that both Linden and him were standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in their hands, their coats still on, and probably the same dazed expression on their faces. He decided to take a sip in order to recollect his thoughts and try and remember exactly what his sister had said before she left. He grimaced, remembering too late that the only way his sister drank coffee (and served it) was extra strong and extra black. Which, considering the past few minutes and the caffeinated whirlwind that was his sister, should have been at the forefront of his mind.

He sighed audibly, and thought it was probably best to try and deflate the situation, otherwise Linden would probably request his car keys promptly.

"Hard to believe we come from the same family, right?"

"I don't see what you mean." she answered, and he felt stupid for not being able to tell if she was joking or not. But he was prevented from having to think about a comeback thanks to the appearance of his niece and nephew.

"Uncle Steve! You came! That's so cool! You've got to see that new video game Josh lent me, you're gonna love it, the monsters are awesome!", cried Davy.

"And mum said you'll take us to the park, too!" added Kayla.

He was soon dragged to the living room and was barely able to piece out what they wanted to do today. It didn't take him long to wonder when he had stopped being so cheerful at 7AM on a Saturday morning.

The children were surprisingly not as curious as he had thought about Linden, and only asked her a few questions. Her answer that she was "your uncle Steve's partner at the police department" got her an impressed "wow" from the kids who now looked at her with reverence and pride, and a small but genuine smile from Holder who for once felt as giddy as his niece and nephew from the simple fact that she still referred to herself as his "partner".

Since Davy was in his Lego phase and Kayla in her drawing phase, things turned out to be easier than Holder had anticipated. The only two things he had to worry about were that his niece didn't swallow Lego pieces and that his nephew didn't tell his sister that he could have drawn something better using his feet - again.

He didn't have the opportunity to talk to Linden much, who sat quietly in the corner of the living room with a book she had picked up and a fresh cup of coffee. She had gone outside once, presumably to smoke a cigarette, and had encouraged Kayla to add more green to her drawing to make the trees brighter. Holder had never seen Linden so calm and collected, and kept expecting that she would snap at some point and start fidgeting like a caged animal. But she never did, and seemed happy to lounge and stay in the same room for hours on end.

Around eleven, he called the station to see if he was needed, but he knew his paperwork was mostly up to date and that unless he was requested at a crime scene, he was free. He didn't mind spending time with the kids, who were both at a point in their lives where they seemed to be growing and changing every day, but he couldn't help but feel that the more he waited to talk to Linden about her plans for the future, the more impossible it would be to make her change her mind - if it turned out she wanted out from the police force. He kept on trying to find arguments to convince her to stay, even though he knew it wasn't really his place to say, and that Linden wasn't the kind of person who would change her mind easily.

They had leftover pizza for lunch, when he realised that his sister's fridge was desperately empty. He thought he remembered her mentioning something about not having had the time to pick up groceries. He would have preferred to cook something, since cooking usually helped him think things through. He had half made up his mind to pick up the kids and go shopping, but he knew his sister was supposed to call around noon, and he didn't want to ask Linden to answer the phone if he was out.

His sister called right after lunch. The kids were watching cartoons - without bickering, for once - and Linden was putting the dirty plates in the sink.

"Hey, how is it going at the hospital?" he asked, and tried to convey with his hands that he would do the dishes himself afterwards. His sign language didn't seem to be understood, because Linden had started putting dish soap on a sponge.

"_Not so good, I'm gonna have to stay for a little while._" she sounded both tired and a bit worried.

"Is everything okay with your neighbour?" he tried once again to stop Linden, but she pretended not to hear or see him gesticulating wildly while holding the phone. He even thought that she was smirking at one point.

"_Yeah, everything's fine, it's just that it's going to take longer than expected with the baby, and Martha won't answer her phone, I thought her shift ended at 11, but obviously I was wrong, now I have to find someone to come the hospital, and..._"

"Wow, slow down Lise, you're obviously a few pints of coffee ahead of me," he heard her breathe in, and realised that she wasn't really worried about her friend, but mostly about her kids.

"Listen, I'm not expected at the station today, and I'm having a nice time with the kids, I can stay here as long as you want. And Linden's a big girl, if she has to go somewhere she can take my car."

That finally got Linden's attention, who stared at him at the world "girl". But that didn't deter her from washing the dishes. Now she just looked a bit peeved.

"_Are you absolutely sure? I don't want to put you in a position where you can't say no, I'm sure there's someone I can call._" she seemed hesitant, but also a bit hopeful, which propelled him to force his point.

"Yeah, I'm sure, I really don't mind, I like being here. You wouldn't believe all the Batman episodes I've missed. I don't want Davy to start thinking of me as his uncool uncle. And I promised Kayla we would go to the park, and..."

"_You don't have to try so hard, Stephen,_" she interrupted. But he could hear the smile in her voice.

"_Fine, you're a life saver. I know it's not something I say to you often, but you are. Call me on my cell if you have any trouble. Whatever happens, I'll be home by seven, I have an early shift tomorrow._"

She hang up soon after that, after having reminded him to help Davy with his reading and make sure Kayla took a nap at some point. It took him a few minutes to close his phone and realise that Linden was staring at him. Lise trusted him. For real. He hadn't imagined things. He exhaled audibly and was brought back to reality by having a dish towel thrown at him.

"You can dry. Can I use the computer to look for something on the Internet?"

She didn't seem pissed by the "big girl" comment, but she did look at him strangely, as if he his hair had turned blue or something. That's when he realised that he hadn't said anything since hanging up the phone, several minutes ago. And he probably had a stupid expression on his face. He'd better start behaving as if nothing was out of the ordinary soon, or she would start asking him if he was okay in that concerned tone he hated.

"Computer? Yeah, sure, help yourself, Lise won't mind."

"Thanks, I won't be long, just something I have to check."

He could still hear the kids watching TV in the other room, so he took his time drying the dishes. It gave him time to think about the next few hours. His sister's call had reinvigorated him, and for one crazy moment he almost felt as if he was back on meth. That first buzz you got, which made you feel like the King of the world for about 20 minutes. Before everything came crashing down, of course. He hadn't experienced that feeling in a long time, and he had thought he would never get to taste it again. Afraid that it would disappear in an instant, he rushed to the living room to announce:

"All right kids, get your stuff. We're going to the park."

"Cool! So I don't have to take a nap?" asked Kayla, who seemed plenty awake to him.

"When we get back. We'll have to go and pick up groceries, too, or you're only gonna eat baby carrots and leftover pizza for a week," he added. He saw that Linden was apparently already done with the computer, so they were out the door in ten minutes.

The weather wasn't too bad for once, but he made sure the kids put on their coats and hats. They ran ahead of the adults to the park close by. He had already been there a few times and he knew it would be the best place to finally talk to Linden, since he had made up his mind that it was time to get some answers, even though asking her questions was like pulling teeth. He reasoned that the day had turned up pretty good up to now, and that he shouldn't miss his chance.

Once they were both sitting on a wooden bench with the kids in sight, he decided to jump right in. After all, the elephant that had taken residence with them since yesterday evening needed to be left out, so to speak.

"What were you checking, on the computer?"

Linden seemed taken aback, not accustomed to have him ask such direct questions. At least, not since he had gotten to know her a little bit.

"A car reservation, but it's all good."

"Oh, so you're tired of my driving already? You know, I can let you drive if you want, I don't mind."

"I have to pick it up tomorrow afternoon."

He took a deep breath, "After the hearing, then?"

"Yeah, even though it shouldn't be a problem, from what Carlson told me."

It felt strangely easy to have all those questions answered, questions he had been so afraid to ask a mere hour ago.

"Nah, just routine I guess. If he managed to have you re-instated, you won't even get a slap on the wrist. Probably just bureaucratic crap or something."

She pressed her lips together. He couldn't tell if she was smiling or frowning. Feeling dread creep back into the conversation, he plunged on.

"So you want back on the job, right? No second thoughts?"

"I don't think I would be able to do anything else. It was stupid of me to think otherwise." That revelation seemed to make her unbelievably sad, so he was quick to defend her point.

"It's not stupid, it's okay to have doubts once in a while. Hell, I had a hard time getting my ass to work every morning after the Larsen case. Some days, there seems to be no point to our jobs, people just keep on killing each other."

"If they didn't, we would be out of a job," she deadpanned.

They both tried to smile at that, but they knew it was forced. There was still one aspect of the situation he wan't sure of, and he didn't know how to approach it without making her bolt. He looked at his niece and nephew playing on the swings for a while, then asked in a quieter voice:

"You started looking for a new place for you and Jack?"

"Eventually, I still have other stuff to deal with before that."

The time window of direct answers had apparently closed: Linden was back to what she knew best, answer in a way that asked for more questions. Holder didn't think he should press his luck, but he also knew that he had come far enough already and that it would be stupid to back down, now.

"You mean you're not coming back to work just yet?"

"I might have some time off left. If so, I intend to use it," she answered matter of factly.

"You really know how to push Carlson's buttons, he's gonna be thrilled when you tell him that," he thought humour was the best course of action, since he had started to have a very bad feeling about the whole conversation. What wasn't she saying? Why was she so cryptic now, when she had been so honest before?

They didn't speak for a while. When she asked him if he wanted a cigarette, he realised that he hadn't smoked since this morning, and hadn't felt the need to. Thinking it would at least be one thing they could share, he took one from her pack. His buzz was gone, and the cigarette didn't help. When his hands started shaking again he decided that it was time to get the kids home, especially since Kayla had come back to sit next to him, probably in need of a nap.

He wouldn't let his dark thoughts deter him for his plans, though: they stopped at Safeway on the way back to buy groceries that should last a few days, and once they got home he convinced Kayla to lie down and Davy to read his reading book aloud to him while he was putting things back in the fridge. Linden was in the living room, quite once again, engrossed in a road atlas she had found in the bookcase.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to get any more answers from Linden, he decided that cooking would calm his nerves. His sister certainly wouldn't object - on the contrary - and it gave him an excuse to spend more time with Davy, who agreed to do his homework much more readily when he was told that he could help make cookies afterwards.

Time passed quietly: he made a stir fry with the chicken and vegetables he had bought, which would last for a few days once frozen, then a chile for dinner. Davy read to him and he would stop occasionally to correct him or lean over his book to help him. He wouldn't mind doing that more often, he thought, since the concentration needed to cook efficiently and listen to his nephew attentively prevented him from thinking about anything else: his job, what Linden was doing in the next room, his sister, his nightmares...

Kayla stumbled in the kitchen in time to help with the cookies, which took a lot of time to get ready since the children both wanted to participate. When they were finally out of the oven and ready to eat, even Linden couldn't pretend not to have smelled them. She wasn't as exuberant over them as the kids, but he could see she enjoyed them. He sent his niece and nephew to the living room before they could ask for a third one, and relented when Davy asked if he could play with his video games.

He was once again alone with Linden, but didn't know if he should jump back into their previous conversation. Maybe it was her turn to initiate one. He stalled by putting ingredients back where they belonged and checking the slowly-simmering chile on the stove.

"I didn't know you enjoyed cooking so much."

He turned to look at her. She had a guilty look on her face, but he didn't know what she felt guilty about. Surely she didn't feel guilty because she had never noticed or appreciated his cooking skills. He shrugged, still feeling a bit peeved by their failed conversation at the park.

"It helps me think, I like it." More like _not_ think, as the case may be, but he didn't tell her that.

"I'm driving to Sonoma tomorrow. That's why I've rented the car and asked for more time off."

He didn't know which part of the sentence he should react to first. So of course, he chose the less threatening one.

"You asked for more time off?"

"I called Carlson while you were cooking. He said yes, but I still have to come to the station tomorrow morning for the hearing. I'm leaving in the afternoon."

He didn't know what had finally made her decide to talk to him. He felt overwhelmed by the new information, and realised that he was not ready to deal with her answers. He hadn't anticipated she would want to go back to Sonoma. But then, he still didn't know what had transpired when she was away. Perhaps she hadn't spent all her time with Jack. He knew he should respect her privacy - after all, he liked that she respected his - but her revelation still came out of nowhere. He thought she was done with the whole Sonoma/shrink-boyfriend thing. Apparently not.

"Why are you driving?", he asked, understanding at last why she had been interested in the road atlas.

"I prefer driving."

Classic Linden answer, he thought. God forbid she would _actually_ answer his question. He felt his hands start shaking again, and knew he had to calm down quickly, or the past two hours spent cooking would be for naught.

"But isn't it like a thousand miles or something?"

"More like 800, actually. It should only take about fourteen hours."

Her answer was very reasonable, but still he could tell he was missing something, a crucial piece of information. Just as he was about to formulate another question, the front door opened and his sister came in.

He had a hard time concentrating on all his sister had to say about her neighbour's baby boy. He didn't even took the time to really appreciate her profound gratefulness at all that he had done today, especially with the shopping. He lived for those moments when his sister was smiling at him, and he forced himself to forget - for now - his conversation with Linden and appreciate the time he had left with his family before driving home. He accepted her invitation to stay for dinner, and almost managed to enjoy the food he had cooked. Davy bemoaned the fact that he didn't have time to show him the video game he had been telling him about and Kayla promised she would make a drawing "just for him" next time he came.

"You can come every weekend if you want to cook. I certainly don't mind, and the kids don't either."

He couldn't suppress a smile at that, and almost felt like telling his sister that yes, he'd be there every weekend if she wanted to. He didn't pay very close attention to Linden during dinner, but she excused herself towards the end when her phone started ringing.

"Sorry, it's Jack, I'll take it outside." He raised his eyes to hers at that, and tried to convey that he hoped she wasn't mad at him for having virtually forgotten about her during the meal, but she didn't seem angry at him and quickly exited the room. He felt as if he had been behaving like a child, brooding over something that wasn't even his business. He'd find a way to apologize tonight, and try and make her understand that he respected her choices, whatever they were, and that if she wanted to go and live in Sonoma, he would be okay with that.

Easier said that done.

"Is everything okay between you and Sarah?" asked his sister, bringing him back to reality. Apparently the kids had also left the table at some point. He really wasn't paying attention to his surroundings.

"What?"

"During dinner, you seemed angry about something and you didn't talk to her. In fact, you didn't talk much period, and that's not like you," she added, smiling. He realised they were both using the same strategy to deflate a situation.

"Sorry, guess I have a lot on my mind. But I did have a great day with the kids, though. They sure change every time my back is turned, it seems," he tried to smile as well, but he knew it looked forced.

"Yeah, it seems that way for me too, and I see them every day."

"Jack is her kid, right?" she added, standing up. "Is he okay?"

"I'm sure he is, he's in Chicago with his dad at the moment, so the situation is a bit... well, you know. Linden's not very happy about it, but it's not as if she was actually talking to me about it." He hoped he didn't sound too bothered by that fact, but he couldn't deny the fact that talking to his sister about it made him feel better.

"Don't be too hard on her, those situations are never easy, and you know it."

He certainly did, and he didn't want to make his sister uncomfortable by talking about her own situation regarding Davy and Kayla's father.

"Did you have any news from him recently?" he couldn't resist to ask.

"No, and it's better this way."

The subject was closed. He knew that he needed to have an in-depth discussion with her on that subject, but she wasn't ready, and now was not the time.

"You should let me pay you back for the groceries," she said, changing the subject for good.

"Nah, I ate part of it, it wouldn't be fair. And besides, I'm back on my regular pay now, I can do what I want with my money, and if I want to buy groceries for my big sister, I'll do that and that's it."

He was glad putting the whole Gil Sloane debacle behind him had turned up easier than anticipated: he was now getting paid like everybody else at the station, and although he had been scared about his reaction the first time he found himself with that much available cash, he hadn't been truly tempted to buy anything prohibited with it, yet.

"You shouldn't have to spend your money on me, Stephen, although it's been appreciated in the last few months," he knew it was hard for his sister to admit she needed help. They were very similar in that respect.

"Don't worry, Lise. It's not as if you hadn't spent any money on me in the past. You can always put it in an account for the kids or something, if it makes you feel uncomfortable."

Linden came back inside, and told him Jack said hi. He felt more at ease around her now that he had talked with his sister, and he knew he would have a conversation with her once they were back at his place. She looked set on telling him something too, and he wondered what it was.

After saying goodbye to the kids, and promising his sister he would call during the week because he might have some tickets to go see a hockey game where he wanted to take Davy, they walked quietly towards his car. He thought he would start making peace with Linden before they arrived back at his apartment, so he asked her:

"You want me to drive you to the car rental place tomorrow?"

"Thanks, that would be nice. I have to pick up the van by 3PM."

He stopped in his steps and turned to her in the middle of the quiet street.

"The van?"

"Yeah, all my stuff is still at Rick's. I need a van to move everything back."

Oh.

"Do you want me to drive to Sonoma with you?" he asked, before he could change his mind.


End file.
